When People Talk About Love
by sharkgeek
Summary: Santana understands why Rachel kissed Finn at Nationals, just some fluff. Santana's POV.Inspired by JJ at themostrandomfandom, spoilers from 3x08, and the title taken from Santana's talk with her Abuela 3x07. My first attempt.


A/N: This was inspired by JJ at themostrandomfandom talking about Santana and Brittany practising the tango. My first fic, so constructive critisim would be much appreciated. Thanks in advance for reading, and any reviews :)

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><p>Not that I would ever tell her, but I understand.<p>

Kinda.

Berry I mean. Although why she chose Finnocence to kiss, cementing us as Lima Losers for another year, I'll never know.

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><p>As soon as Miss Corcoran suggested mixing dance genres – <em>a <em>_visual__ mash __up __to__ match__ the__ verbal__ one_ she said – I could feel Britt's excitement vibrate from her.

Miss Corcoran had a whole list of dancing genres, only Britt knew every single type, illustrating the more abstract ones, muscles contracting and relaxing, arms fluidly extending, quickly jerking back to her side, moving round the small music room like silk.

Smooth.

Luxurious.

Beautiful.

Watching her move was always my favourite thing when we were smaller, often it wasn't even dancing, she just had her own beat pulsing through her constantly.

Miss Corcoran let her choose – _the__expert_she stated – making Britt's smile widen. Breathless, her skin shinning with moisture, Britt shrugged in that faux ghetto manner she uses to cheer me up sometimes.

_A ballroom section, maybe a waltz, although rhythmically a tango would be easier. _

Oddly it was Sugar who suggested the 'Waacking' that made Britt look like she'd lost control of her arms when she showed us; apparently her mama always talked about it, it originated in Latina and black gay clubs or something. Whatever. It was so different from the graceful movements Britt was already constructing in front of us that Miss Corcoran beamed.

_Perfect._

Britt, Sugar and Miss Corcoran started choreographing whilst Mercedes and I worked on the vocals. But all I could see, all I could feel, all I could _sense_ was her. Her lilting laugh, much more masculine than expected when she found something hilarious; the bird-like cocking of her head as she critiqued; her gentle, patient corrections; the way she was always moving, stretching, bouncing.

There must have been a bell, because suddenly everyone started to move.

_San and I will stay and work on the tango. I need her for the vocals._

I don't think anyone believed her, but I was still glad she said it. Even now, I hate knowing that people know something so personal about me, especially with the extra Cherrios there to get us to the competition member requirement number.

I hate that. I'm trying to change. Britt deserves me to change. To be as strong as she is.

The room emptied, she turned on her iPod, the running piano filling the room, and walked towards me.

_Ignore the Waacking-_

_You mean the spaz attack flailing? Sorry, continue._

_Ignore the Waacking, just follow my lead and feel the beat._

I nodded, mirroring her right arm slipping around my waist, left hand cupping my right, squeezing her fingers sending tingles across my skin.

For the first few repeats of the song, she just held me, looking slightly to the right of my head – even with her, I disliked constant eye contact – a smile ghosting her lips and her hips occasionally bushing against me. I moved closer to her near the end of the fifth repeat, taking a deep, steadying breath of her, tangy and salty with sweat, sweet from the Pixy Stix and something citrus from her shampoo.

_Ready?_

Her whisper pushed through the music, whirled round my ear, hitting my cochlea perfectly, calming and exciting me all at once. Kissing her neck – the only part of her I can reach without moving – I noded.

It was exhilarating, the way she pulled me impossibly closer -

pushing me to strut backwards –

her fingers twisted round my hand whilst mine were curled around her thumb, feeling her pulse thrumming through me-

then swiftly pulling me forwards –

neither of us looking at the other, but all I was, was connected to her –

I barely have enough to time to support her as she dips, when she's up, ponytail flying –

I feel the muscles in her arm tense as she swings me around, her arm dropping making my body dip, and then I'm upright again –

She stops, smiling, her breathing not even increased, while I still can't breath properly, my whole body tingling from the adrenaline flying through my blood vessels, my eyes pulled to her lips, slightly parted as she waits for my assessment.

_Again. Again Britt._

This time I know what I'm doing, more or less, so we work as a team. But this time at the end I don't let her pull away after she dips me, pulling her face towards me, connecting our lips. It's hard and sloppy and brief and not at all romantic, but she beams at me, a giggle escaping her throat, moving slightly so our noses are still resting together but nothing else touches.

_Again._

_Again._

_Again._

This time I can't help but look at her, face becoming more and more red whilst mine darkens, our skin shinning, hands slippy from sweat, the hairs at her temple and the back of my neck sticking resolutely to our skin.

This time the kiss is longer, and her fingers tug at the elastic in my hair so it falls, a dark curtain across our faces. She pulls away breathing hard, standing straight and pulling at her own hair elastic.

_Again._

This time we don't get past the first few steps. Moving her back across the room, her fingers massaging my waist and her other hand already running down my hair, hardly touching me, sent sparks of electricity through me, whilst her breath was hot and rapid against the top of my cheek.

The kiss is even sloppier. Desperate even. Her strong tongue moving against my lips, then against my own tongue. Both hands at my waist, then one upwards against my ribcage, pausing at my breast, causing my body to press against her more, then fingers stroking at my neck, then caressing and holding my cheek.

_Home._

Her breath is urgent, her voice lower, her blue eyes swirling and dark. The feel of her skin eradicated my ability to talk so I just noded against her neck.

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><p>So I understand.<p>

It takes all my strength to not look at her as she holds me so much closer than any other couple. To let go. To turn to move in front of her. It actually hurts when she twirls me and walks to the other side of the stage.

And now, lying on the stage, chest heaving, I feel so light and happy, that I can't help but smile at the girl above me, even if she isn't Britt.

I understand.


End file.
